And that’s almost all it takes. He touches me there, so carefully at first, so tentatively that I almost want to shout at him more. But I remain quiet, his hand still loosely covering the lower half of my face, his other hand in my panties. I squirm against his touch, spreading my thighs, inviting him in, and he takes the invitation. Stroking me, testing me, slipping one thick finger inside me…
“Oh God.” The words are muffled behind his hand and he removes it, kissing me again, before he slides his lips down to my throat, behind my ear. I wince when his fingers fumble, a distressed noise leaving me, and he pauses. Goes completely still.
“Did I hurt you?” He sounds worried.
I shake my head. Shift my hips. “Not really.”
His mouth is at my ear. “Tell me what you like.”
I absolutely cannot answer that. Please. I am way too new at this sex thing and he is Jordan Tuttle, the sex god.
“Tell me, Mandy.” He kisses my ear. Nibbles it. Makes me squirm again. “I want to know what you like.”
“I don’t know,” I finally tell him, mumbling so low I hope he doesn’t hear me. Which is dumb, but I’m feeling so inept. So inexperienced compared to him. He’s been with so many girls. A countless list of girls I don’t want to think about. They’ve been with him like this, wrapped up in his arms like this, his mouth on theirs, his hands…everywhere.
I hate to think about it. So I push all of those negative thoughts out of my head and focus on right now.
Jordan is persistent. He touches me in different spots, asking if I like it. And when he touches one spot in particular that makes me see a few sparkly stars in my peripheral vision, I tell him don’t stop. I might’ve even begged him. He increases his pace and, with his other hand, tugs my panties down past my hips, to my thighs, until I’m helping him and kicking them off myself. I am completely naked with Jordan in his bed, his fingers between my thighs, and I am so close to exploding I’m afraid I might fall completely apart.
I’ve never felt so alive.
Amanda clings to me, her long legs tangled with mine, her arms wrapped around my neck as she breathes hard. My head rests on her chest and the wild thump, thump of her beating heart calms me. Reminds me that this moment is happening. That what I just did to her is one hundred percent real.
Being with her is like nothing I’ve ever experienced, and it’s…terrifying. That quick encounter with my father tonight reminded me that spending time with her is wrong. Stringing her along, stringing myself along. Pretending I believe in relationships and that what Amanda and I could have could ever be healthy and strong. It’s all lies.
We won’t work out. Something—me—will screw it up. I am my father’s son. And I am my mother’s son too. That conversation with my mother earlier had been downright painful. She’d been drinking, and after popping a few anti-anxiety pills, that combination always sends her into near hysterics.
She ranted on and on about her cheating husband. How I should turn my heart to stone to prevent it from ever being broken. She claimed I have a more sensitive heart, that I’m more like her than my father, who’s cold and calculating and flat out heartless.
Maybe she’s right after all. I’ve been trying to convince myself otherwise for years. I’m not sensitive. I don’t care about anyone. I don’t have real friends and I definitely don’t need a relationship. Girls are nothing but trouble.
Amanda changed everything. Even when I was twelve, she scared me. And not in a bad way—more like in a good way. It scared the shit out of me how much I actually liked her. And the more time I spent watching her, listening to her, seeing her every day in various classes over the years, the more I liked her.
The more I eventually knew I had to make her mine.
And now here she is. Lying in my arms completely naked. I just made her come and damn, she is beautiful when that happens. I don’t think I could ever get tired of making her come again and again.
“I want to touch you,” she murmurs into my neck. She shifts closer to me, her naked body brushing against mine, and I smooth my hand along her hip, trying to keep myself under control.
“You’re tired.”
“Not too tired to keep this going.” She kisses my jaw once. Twice. Three times. Sweet little kisses that bring her lips closer and closer to mine. “It’s your turn.”
I turn my head and kiss her fully, effectively shutting her up. When I pull away she’s watching me with flushed cheeks and stars in her eyes. “This is ridiculous. I’m completely naked and you’re completely clothed.”
“I like you this way.” I squeeze her ass because it’s perfect and I can’t stop touching it. “Don’t worry about me.”
“I want to worry about you.” She reaches for the front of my shirt and starts unbuttoning it. “This moment rates high in my fantasies.”
“You have fantasies? About me?” That’s intriguing. Wonder if she’ll tell me them someday. I have a few I could share with her too.
She bats at my chest. “Stripping you of your clothes is a pretty fine fantasy to have, don’t you think?”